Authors: Hannah Hooton
‘Who took him to hospital?’ Jack asked. ‘You must have all been over the limit.’
Finn shook his head.
‘Emmie was off the booze. She donned the adult role. Nevertheless, I thought I’d report it and see if it needs to go in the Accident Report Book.’
Pippa looked at Jack, unsure.
Annoyed, he shook his head.
‘It wasn’t a work-related accident. Bloody idiot,’ he muttered. He was about to give the Entries and Declarations book to Pippa when he paused and turned to Finn. ‘I’ve put you down in the entries aboard Smoking Ace rather than Peace Offering. Presumably, you’d rather be on the more fancied ride?’
Pippa looked away, stung. When she raised her gaze, she found Finn looking at her, a mixture of pity amidst the humour in his eyes.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ he said to Jack. ‘I wouldn’t say Peace Offering was without a shout now. If you’re givin’ me the choice then I think I’ll opt for him instead.’ He winked at Pippa and she gave him a grateful smile.
‘Fine,’ Jack said curtly. He tossed the book onto her desk and strode back to his office. ‘Pippa, make sure you get those passes sent out,’ he threw over his shoulder. ‘I hope your boyfriend enjoys his first day out as an owner.’
She stared, her mouth open half in surprise, half in disgust as the door slammed shut behind him.
What was his problem?
‘Boyfriend, eh?’ Finn recaptured her attention with a raised eyebrow. ‘That’s something you didn’t mention before.’
Pippa squirmed in her seat.
‘There never seemed a good opportunity to mention him,’ she replied.
Finn’s green eyes danced with mischief.
‘And where is the lucky man? I sure haven’t seen him with you at The Plough. Keepin’ him locked away in the cellar?’
‘He lives in London,’ Pippa explained. ‘He’s not really a country kind of guy.’
‘Then I won’t be complainin’ about that. The more we have of yerself in the sticks alone, the better.’
Pippa snorted and shook her head.
‘Do you still want to ride Peace Offering?’
Finn looked affronted.
‘Of course I do. It’d give me a legitimate excuse to kiss you if we win.’ He gave her a lazy smile. ‘You do know that it’s customary for the winning owner to kiss the jockey, don’t you?’
‘I guess so,’ Pippa laughed.
‘Plus, Smoking Ace has a fair chance of winning too and that means I’d have to kiss Lady Pennington,’ he added in a stage whisper.
‘Is she really that bad?’ she giggled.
Finn pulled a face.
‘If you’ve ever tried to kiss a cow on its nose, you’d know what I mean.’
Pippa covered her mouth to conceal her laughter.
‘That’s a terrible thing to say.’
‘Aye, but not a word of a lie in it,’ Finn shuddered.
P
ippa drummed her fingers on the freshly varnished wooden windowsill and looked out over Hazyvale’s shaggy front garden. Through the foggy glass, she searched for the first flash of red entering the driveway amidst the bleak leafless shrubbery. Apart from a shivering rabbit hopping among the tangles, nothing stirred. She glanced at her watch, sucked her teeth in impatience and dipped into her handbag for her mobile to see if she’d missed any calls from Ollie.
Nothing.
She smoothed her booted sole across a dimple in the worn lounge carpet where it was curling away from the skirting board to reveal dirty oak floorboards. She idly wondered if it was worth leaving the floor bare and just giving it a sanding and a varnish rather than re-carpeting the whole thing. She could discuss it with Ollie and perhaps tomorrow he’d help move the furniture. Otherwise, Tash was coming to stay next weekend.
Pippa’s mouth twisted into a grim smile as she recalled how her best friend had cried off from Peace Offering’s race when she heard Ollie would be in attendance. Of course, Tash’s excuse had been completely different, claiming she had been shagless for nearly three weeks with Aladdin being away and was desperate for his return this weekend.
‘And you know what I can get like if I don’t get my full dosage of sex, Pip,’ Tash had added. ‘Especially if your boss is going to be there looking as desirable as banoffee pie and custard is to a struggling weight watcher.’
Pippa did know so wasn’t quite sure whether to believe Tash’s excuse or not. On the other hand, she was rather relieved that she wouldn’t have to cope with Ollie, Tash and Jack all at the same time. Tash was never shy when it came to telling Ollie what was on her mind and she doubted whether Jack would be either.
A glint of sunlight on metal caught her eye through the trees bordering the garden and Pippa’s pulse quickened. She watched as Ollie’s red Alfa Romeo turned into the driveway, bumping and dipping its way towards the cottage. She rushed to the front door, fumbling with her keys then hurtled down the two stone steps.
Ollie had got out and was looking, nonplussed, at the underside of his car.
‘Ollie! Where’ve you been?’ Pippa cried.
‘Traffic on the M25 was horrific,’ Ollie replied. ‘What’s the rush?’
‘It’s nearly two o’clock. Peace Offering’s race is at three-thirty!’
‘We’ve got plenty of time. Wincanton’s not that far from here.’
‘But we have to get our badges and see Peace Offering before the race, watch him in the paddock –’
‘Do we have time for a hello, happy to see you kiss?’ he asked.
At once, Pippa felt bad. Ollie had come all this way to see her and she was already having a go at him. He looked very boyish, but very dapper in his dark suit with pale blue silk tie and shirt, his hair, waxed and combed, now a little messed from the journey. He was obviously making an effort for the races.
She rounded the front of the car and took his hands in hers.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, kissing him.
‘I know.’ He arched her hands wide so he could look at her outfit and nodded his approval. In her black knee-length boots, topped by a red and black Grecian-style dress and stylish tartan coat, she curtsied to him.
‘You like?’ she giggled.
‘Oh, I like,’ Ollie nodded with conviction. He gazed longingly at the cottage. ‘You sure we don’t have time?’
‘Quite sure. The grand tour will have to wait until later, I’m afraid.’ She gave his hands a last squeeze and headed round to the passenger’s door.
‘A grand tour of the house wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,’ Ollie mumbled.
Pippa proudly held up her star-shaped owners’ badge for the course attendant to inspect before entering the paddock enclosure with Ollie beside her. Her nerves were resurfacing again and she sought out Ollie’s hand as they stepped across the springy grass. She scanned the groups of people within the ring.
‘There’s Jack!’ she said, pointing to the distant figure of the trainer, standing beside two other people, and quickened her step. Jack had the same harassed look on his face that he wore whenever he took phone calls from Lady Pennington. She scrutinised his company. The man was small and slight, his lizard-like throat raw from his too-tight collar and his mouth in a wide line of meekness, reminding Pippa of a hand puppet. The woman resembled a grizzly bear just back from the salon in her enormous fur coat and rouged cheeks and lips. A huge peach rose sprouted from her black Cossack hat like a crooked miner’s lamp.
‘That must be Lord and Lady Pennington,’ she whispered as they approached them.
‘Rubbing shoulders with aristocracy as well as the rich and famous?’ Ollie replied, sounding impressed.
‘Ooh, here come the horses,’ Pippa squeaked as the first horses were led into the parade ring by their handlers. She clutched Ollie’s hand and bounced on her toes with excitement for a couple of steps. Eagerly, she awaited Peace Offering’s entrance. ‘There he is!’ She pointed avidly to the tall bay horse strolling through the gap in the hedge. She tore her eyes away to gauge Ollie’s reaction.
He looked confused.
‘Why’s he half-shaved?’ he asked.
‘They’re clipped during the winter,’ Pippa explained. ‘Otherwise they would be too furry and sweat too much during hard workouts.’
She watched Peace Offering saunter around the outer edge of the ring, occasionally bashing against Emmie as he tried to take a mouthful of hedge leaves, and her chest swelled with pride. His close-cropped coat rippled sleek and tight over the long lean muscles and his black tail, trimmed and unknotted for the occasion, floated behind him like a princely cape.
They reached Jack and the Penningtons just as the jockeys spilt into the ring from the weighing room in a flood of colour.
‘Hello, Jack.’
Jack wheeled round, his expression a mixture of desperation and fury.
‘Where’ve you been?’ he demanded, not quite concealing the trauma in his tone.
‘Delays on the motorway,’ she said. ‘Jack, this is Ollie. Ollie, this is Jack Carmichael.’
Regaining his composure, Jack nodded and held out his hand.
‘Nice to meet you,’ he said. He turned to the couple standing with him. ‘May I introduce Lord and Lady Pennington. This is Pippa, my secretary, and her partner.’
They shook hands then Lady Pennington turned her back on them in order to watch the horses and in a loud whisper in her husband’s ear commented,
‘What an unusual arrangement, inviting one’s staff along to the races and giving them
owners
’ badges. Makes you wonder what sort of relationship he has with his secretary.’
Jack rolled his eyes. He’d obviously had his fill of the Penningtons already.
‘Actually, Lady Pennington,’ Pippa raised her voice, ‘I do own a horse. Peace Offering, the horse Finn O’Donaghue chose to ride instead of your Smoking Ace, is mine.’ She gave the surprised woman a beaming smile.
‘Pippa,’ Jack growled beneath his breath.
Once the jockeys had mounted and were filing out of the ring towards the track, Pippa and Ollie followed the others towards the packed stands. With Lady Pennington clearing their path like a bulldozer, sending spectators sprawling, they climbed the steps of the Club Stand opposite the winning post. There wasn’t room for all five of them and Pippa had to settle for the row beneath the others. She shuffled along with Ollie on her left until they were directly in front of Jack and the Penningtons.
For the first time, Pippa looked out over the course, catching her breath as she did so. The sunshine, which had prevailed for the last few days, bathed the track’s inner golf course in a fresh emerald glow, the sand bunkers peeping out like pockets of gold. Behind the backstretch, the Somerset countryside rose up in a patchwork quilt of farmland to the pale blue sky. The huge screen opposite the stands showed the ten horses cantering down to the Start with their betting odds moving across the bottom.
‘Isn’t it beautiful,’ Pippa breathed.
‘Bloody cold,’ Ollie replied as a gust of wintery wind buffered the grandstands. ‘A pity we didn’t have time to put any bets on. Looks like Peace Offering is third favourite. He must have a chance.’
‘I hope so, although with no rain lately, Jack says the ground might ride a bit quick for him. I think the odds have been swayed since Finn opted to ride Peace Offering rather than Smoking Ace.’
‘Well, that’s a good sign. He must have reason for wanting to ride our horse.’
Pippa refrained from telling him Finn’s excuse. Ollie might not appreciate it as much as she had. Instead, she watched the horses circling at the Start, loosening their muscles, their opaque breaths accumulating in a thin cloud around them. She glimpsed the starter climbing his rostrum.
The jockeys gathered up their reins, jogging towards the tape in readiness for the off.
Pippa took a deep gulping breath as they set off towards the first, Peace Offering’s white blaze bobbing in and out of sight in midfield. The first three jumps down the homestretch came in quick succession, the thunderous rumble of hooves being drowned out by the cheering crowd. The horse in the lead, which Pippa quickly identified through her racecard as Town Crier, swung the chasing field away from the enclosures at a brisk gallop towards the water jump. Peace Offering, with Finn aboard, was being niggled along as he struggled to keep up with the pace.
‘Come on, Peace Offering,’ she whispered, scrunching her racecard in her clenched fist. The bay horse pricked his ears approaching the water and lengthened his stride, soaring over while Finn sat motionless on his back. She beamed with pride as the commentator mentioned his impressive jump.
‘He’s a bit far back, isn’t he?’ Ollie shouted above the roar of the crowd.
‘I don’t know,’ Pippa shrugged in reply. ‘There’s still another two circuits to go.’
She chewed her bottom lip as Ollie’s observation became more apparent when the field of horses raced along the back straight. Town Crier led by four lengths, followed by the grey favourite, Smoking Ace. Another cluster of horses followed in his wake, behind which Peace Offering galloped hard to stay in contention. Only two other horses kept him company. The leader rounded the turn furthest away from the stands and headed downhill towards the obstacle that would take them into the homestretch again. Peace Offering was just landing after the previous open ditch, trailing by at least fifteen lengths.
‘Town Crier is keeping up a strong gallop here,’ the commentator’s voice could barely be heard above the noisy spectators. ‘With one circuit complete, the field is well strung out. Smoking Ace, in the hands of Mick Farrelly races handily in second. Three lengths back, Pastiche, Lumberjack, Silver Rock follow – Town Crier makes a bad mistake! Nods on landing. Smoking Ace closes the gap! Further back, Peace Offering heads a group of three and Fisherman’s Son brings up the rear and looks like being pulled up.’
Pippa hugged Ollie’s arm as, unblinking and breathless, she watched the horses tackle the three steeplechase fences in front of the grand stand once more. Smoking Ace drew up alongside Town Crier as they headed into their final circuit and the pair stretched over the water jump in tandem. The gap to the chasing field widened as they drew away.
Pippa cringed, noticing Finn start to push his mount for more speed. She compared her horse to the others racing around him. Some were beginning to drop back, their heads bobbing heavily as they tired. Peace Offering took off well away from the next open ditch, ballooning over. He didn’t seem tired at all, he just wasn’t fast enough, thought Pippa in anguish.